


And The Voices Cried

by jackstanifold



Series: Of Family and Fear au [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dave | Technoblade-centric, Sad Dave | Technoblade, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, but yeah, butcher army arc, i just realized i didn't specify that, quackity is possessed by schlatt, ranboo is just... trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackstanifold/pseuds/jackstanifold
Summary: Technoblade was never comfortable. He never had a moment of rest. So when he finally did, he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when it all fell apart.
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Of Family and Fear au [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052519
Comments: 56
Kudos: 753
Collections: Dream SMP Fics To Fill The Void In My Soul





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this was technically part of my story "of family and fear", but i decided i liked it enough to post it separately.
> 
> please leave a comment if you like it, and subscribe to technoblade!
> 
> !tw for: a whole lot of swearing, somewhat unsympathetic tubbo, fundy and quackity, temporary death, and suicidal thoughts. stay safe!

Techno was comfortable. That was the first hint that something was wrong, he thought. He wasn’t supposed to relax. He wasn't supposed to be calm. So working on his little turtle farm with Phil at his side, with his hair clean and his hand healing nicely should’ve made him suspicious. The voices were quieter out here, a murmur slipping through to remind him to feed the horses, or check on the villagers. He was happy here. So why was he surprised when Phil sent him a whisper, his voice echoing in Techno’s head?

A simple ‘They know where you are, be careful my son.’ and he was sent scrambling.

He was never this unprepared, never this unready. He stood in his storage room, rooting through chests in a panic. His armor, his good armor, was gone. Why? Where could he have possibly put it? Shit, this was bad.

He cursed at himself, at the voices, who were screaming again, each yelling at him, a cacophony of voices. 

Shield, grab a shield. What the hell are you doing, run away. Tommy, find Tommy. Raccoon boy, hahahahha. There’s someone outside. LOOK OUTSIDE. OUTSIDE OUTSIDE TURN AROUND, LOOK OUTSIDE.

He slammed the chest shut, spinning on his heels to peer out the window. There. A glimpse of yellow. Wilbur? No, Ghostbur, he remembered. Wilbur was dead. He was standing in the snow, staring at the house. As soon as he saw Techno, he raised a hand to wave, a smile lighting up his face. Techno turned away, but not before waving his brother over.

Brother. That wasn’t a word he’d used in a while.

Ghostbur floated through the wall, not even hesitating when he saw Techno in full battle gear (minus his chestplate, he still couldn’t find it) beaming at him brightly. “Hallo, Technoblade!”

“Hullo.”

Ghostbur smiled even brighter, drifting forward to give Techno a hug. “Hi, Techno, how’s it going man?”

Techno yanked back, turning to the brewing stand to try and at least start some potions before whoever the hell was coming arrived. He shrugged a shoulder at Ghostbur. “Ghostbur, this is a terrible time.” His usually monotone voice was a bit panicked, and it sounded shrill to his ears, but Ghostbur didn’t seem to notice. 

“Oh… Oh, I was in the area, and I just- I wanted to drop by-.” Ghostbur reached for the potion stand, not batting an eye when the shorter man batted his hand away.

“I’m a little but busy, Ghostbur.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur looked at him, his eyebrow creased a bit. “Techno, you seem stressed… Have you been sleeping well?”

Techno barked out a laugh. “Look, Ghost, there’s a group of bounty hunters on their way to kill me, and I really need to get some more potions, I don’t have any time to chat.”

Ghostbur started. “Oh! Potions? I’m-I’m good with potions! Can I help?”

Techno sighed, turning to look at him. His skin was grey, his lips blue. His hair was tumbling over his forehead in a faded mess. His sweater was stained, with blood and dirt and… blue? This wasn’t his brother, he thought. This was nothing but a shadow of the boy who sang to him at night, and braided his hair, and talked to him when no one else would. This wasn’t Wilbur, and he knew that, but he still found himself saying “No, you should leave.”

The voices howled at him, telling him he needed all the help he could get, but he shook his head. “I’m not losing him again,” he muttered, causing Ghostbur to give him a strange look, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“I don’t want to leave though. The snow, it hurts a bit. Phil- Phil said water melts me.” Wilbur drifted to the window, opening it to glance out listlessly. Techno rushed to close it, to keep in the warm air.

“Look, Ghostbur, I need you to get out, go somewhere safe. It’s not snowing now, you’ll be safe.” He let out a huff as his brother’s spirit laughed a bit. 

“There’s nowhere safer than with Technoblade! Hey, Tech, you remember when we were kids? You used to patrol the farm at night to keep Phil and I safe! Remember?” He grinned brightly at the man, his eyes sparkling a bit at the memory.

Techno grimaced. He remembered those days. He hadn’t known what to do with a family. The voices had screamed to protect them, keep them safe, so he did. He’d stopped when Tommy had arrived and he’d realised he couldn’t afford to risk his life anymore.

He couldn’t protect them anymore. 

“Ghost… I…” He hissed out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t… I can’t keep you safe right now. You gotta get outta here, Wilbur. They’re gonna come, and they’re gonna see you, and I don’t know what they’re gonna do to you- I don’t know what they’re gonna do to me, but it’s not gonna be good.”

Ghostbur frowned. "They? Who's they?”

Techno shook his head, sighing again, grabbing a handful of golden apples to shove in his bag. (Where did all his God Apples go? He had a few in that chest, he thought.) “Dunno. Quackity, probably, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

Ghostbur nodded, then turned back to the window, opening it again. This time, Techno let him, ignoring the sudden rush of cool air in favor of checking the potions to see how they were doing. Suddenly, Ghostbur let out a gasp. “Techno, look!”

Immediately, the smaller man rushed to his side, squinting around for a glimpse of netherite armor, but Ghostbur laughed pointing to the front yard. “It’s a sign!” 

A blue sheep stood in the snow, staring up at the men. It blinked slowly, before bending down for a bite of snow. Techno huffed. 

“Look, Wilbur, you like that sheep? I want you to take it, and get as far away from here as you can. Okay? Take it somewhere warm, and nice.”

“O-O-Okay.” Ghostbur smiled at Techno again, before drifting outside. He started making quiet noises at the sheep, leading it away, and Techno sighed, returning to his work. 

The voices were getting louder, harder to distinguish, but he noticed a good few were chanting for blood. He bit back a frustrated scream, and dug around some more, desperately searching for anything useful. Nothing. 

Outside outside outside.

He hissed under his breath, turning to look out a window and-

Torches.

Ghostbur was surrounded by four figures in full netherite armor. He was calm, one hand clutching the sheep, the other waving in the air as he talked. He laughed, suddenly, and pointed at the house. Techno yelped, dodging under the window sill, out of view, but it was too late. They’d seen him. He cursed, stumbling to the potion stand. About seven or eight of them were done, the others were still little more than hot water with blaze powder, and he pocketed the good ones, his head buzzing a bit from the sheer volume of the voices. Outside, he heard someone yell his name, and he ran to the door, opening it a bit. 

Ghostbur jogged up his front steps, smiling at him. “Oh, Techno, I found these men, and they’re saying they’re going to kill you, and I wanted to know what you wanted me to tell them.”

Techno groaned, his eyes closing for a split second. “I want you to say I’m not here, and I moved out.” His voice was layered thick with sarcasm, but Ghostbur nodded enthusiastically. 

“Okay! Okay, I’ll do that!”

“What? No-”

Ghostbur waved the men over, smiling brightly at them as they gathered at the bottom of the stairs. “Ok, guys, Technoblade isn’t here! He’s- he’s gone! Moved out!”

Quackity barked out a laugh. “Wilbur, we can see him.” He nodded at the door, which Techno peered out of. They couldn’t really see him, he reasoned. They wouldn’t be so scared if they could see him. 

“Oh, no,” Ghostbur reached behind him to wave Techno off. “That’s not… That’s not Technoblade… That’s- uh-”

Techno found himself laughing, his chuckle causing the men to stiffen in fear, and stumble back, raising their weapons. “Ghostbur, I don’t think that’s going to work. It’s a little bit late for that.” He opened the door the rest of the way, and stepped out into the air. He wasn’t scared anymore, his mind sharp and analytical. 

The men eyed him warily. He wore baggy cotton clothes under his netherite armor, his long hair had gone white, and seemed curly, almost; bundled back into a messy bun. His eye wasn't clouded in rage, or grief, or confusion, looking at them with a calmness they probably weren’t expecting. He gripped his bag tightly, and his sword even tighter. He was chubbier now, his muscles almost invisible under the layers of fat, but they were still there, and they knew it. A bit of padding didn’t mean much when facing the greatest warrior in the world.

While they stared up at him, he looked back. 

Quackity was in the lead, of course. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, his hair tumbled over his forehead. He looked so serious. No jokes about drugs, no little grin on his lips, no confusion in his eyes. He was there for blood. Techno faintly wondered what happened to that boy who trembled when glared at, who stumbled over his words, who nodded with a desperation that bordered on panic when Schlatt spoke. 

Fundy stood beside him, eyes flitting between his father and his uncle. His fingers played with the knife strapped to his thigh, his lips were chewed raw. Techno had never actually spoken to his nephew, never actually learned much about him, but from what he’d heard, Fundy wasn’t messing around either. That wasn’t guilt or fear that tightened the young man’s shoulders. It was rage.

The other two were young. The freakishly tall one looked to be 17 or so, and Techno faintly recognized him from the last time he went to town. Ranboo, the little baker girl’s younger brother. He was half withered, his left side blackened and decayed, his eye faded and green. Endersickness, Techno thought, remembering what Niki had called it. He looked nervous, fidgeting with his shield and avoiding eye contact. Techno realised that they’d had no previous interactions. This boy had heard of his bloodthirstiness, of his rage, of his fury, and he’d been scared. He was a legend in Ranboo’s eyes. The thought made him sad.

The last man wasn’t a man at all. Tubbo stared at Techno, a calm look on his face, lips pressed in a line. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He only stared. Techno noticed the scars, reaching from his stomach, up onto his neck, his arms, his face, and his heart stuttered, guilt welling in his chest. He noticed the boy’s eyes, a dimmer green than he remembered, his dark brown hair well brushed and out of the way. There was no dirt under his nails, Techno realised sadly.

Quackity spoke, his tone measured and even. “Technoblade, we are here…” He sighed. “You probably know what we’re here for.”

Techno shook his head, casually walking down the stairs, strolling past the men. “No, I don’t. Why would you come all the way out here, to my humble abode?” He wasn’t sure what he was doing, and by the silence that tore the air as he grabbed a bucket from a hook on the wall, they didn’t either.

Tubbo’s voice broke the silence, his footsteps crunching behind Techno as the retired warrior walked to the side of the house. “You have to pay for your war crimes, Techno.”

Techno shook his head, not turning as he heard the others follow as well, still holding their weapons, prepared for an ambush. “That’s water under the bridge Tubbo, the old Techno. I’m- I’m a changed man, now. I’m in retirement! I’m a good person now, Tubbo!”

Tubbo hummed. He sounded sad almost, and faintly, Techno heard him crying out as a firework lodged in his stomach, shot by a madman. Techno shook his head a bit, trying to get the image out of his head. He turned the corner of the building, marching straight to the bee farm.

“Techno, you exploded L’Manburg. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed, you must be brought to justice for that.” Quackity cut in, stepping between the taller man and his destination, pointing a sword at his face, a glare on his face. Techno almost felt bad for the man as he brushed the weapon aside, walking around him without batting an eye.

“Listen, listen, you guys.” Techno set the bucket on the snow beside the small building, and finally turned to them. “I have gone through so much effort the last couple months to change my violent ways. The voices-” He laughed a bit, pointing at his head. “The voices demand blood, and I have been denying them! I’ve been fighting back.” He looked directly at Ranboo, who somehow looked more horrified, and stared him dead in the eyes.

“Please. Please, don’t make me kill all of you. Please, just leave.”

The boy stepped back, glancing at the other three in horror, but they seemed unphased. 

“Technoblade. It’s four verses one. Please, just come peacefully.” Tubbo sounded tired, pleading. He looked at the bee farm behind Techno and something in his face changed. He realised who Techno was thinking of when he built that farm, and squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to look at the man he once called his brother. “Please, Technoblade.”

Techno hesitated. He knew there was no way around it, they were going to win, no matter what, but he refused to surrender, instead turning back around to open one of the hives, slowly scraping some honey off, into the bucket. He felt them relax a bit, and he heard one of them, Fundy, start walking forward. Then, he moved, throwing the tray of honey and combe at the man, who yelped and fell backwards, and leapt over him. He dodged past Quackity, who was still stunned, and started sprinting, making it a good way before he felt an arrow slam into his shoulder, causing him to stumble.

When he looked up, he was surrounded again, the men glaring down at him. 

“Listen, listen Techno. We won’t let you get out of here… fuckin- in one piece, okay?” Quackity’s voice was sharp, his accent slipping in a bit. “We’re gonna fuck you up Techno. It’s gonna be the easy way or the hard way. We’re gonna take you back to L’Manburg. You’re gonna come with us.”

Techno sighed, standing shakily. He noticed with satisfaction that his shoulder barely hurt, the resistance potions taking full effect, refusing to let him feel the full effects of the pain. He reached back, grabbing it, hearing more than feeling the flesh tear as he carelessly ripped it out. Fundy made a quiet nose, his face paling a bit. 

“... If there’s no other way…” The voices were quieting he thought, slowly merging into one voice, one. Kill them, Techno. End them, Ares. Destroy them, Blood God. He grinned, and said the next line in sync with the chorus. “I chose blood.”

He threw down the potions, strength, regen, resistance, speed, breathing in the fumes, laughing as Quackity screamed and rushed towards him. He pulled out his sword, and let the voices take control. 

Techno was gone, replaced by the Blade.

The Blade felt nothing, his only thought was blood, as he swung, laughing like a madman. With a start, he realised the last time he’d fought like this, up close and personal, was his duel with Dream. He had won that fight, but lost an eye. A sacrifice he didn’t regret. 

He swung with vigor, his sword biting into metal, flesh, wood when he got too careless and hit a tree.

He heard Quackity let out another scream, and Ranboo shouted something, stumbling back, his legs too unnaturally long for a clean get-away, and he stumbled. Immediately, The Blade leapt on the boy, raising his sword to kill him, but Tubbo tackled him, shoving him to the ground. The boys were on their feet and stumbling away by the time he’d retrieved his sword, and he started to move towards them, and he realised he was speaking. “Death. Death. Death.”

“Technoblade.” He turned to Quackity, finding him on... A horse? What did he expect that to do, The Blade was going to kill him anyways. “I have Carl.”

Suddenly, deep inside, Techno forced his way forward, shutting out the voices. No. No no no, not Carl. Carl was all he had left. 

“Wait wait wait. What’re you doing. What’re you doing with that horse.” Techno’s voice was loud. Too loud. It grated at his ear drums. “What’re-”

“Technoblade, if you pull any shit, I’m gonna fucking kill Carl.” Quackity shifted, putting his axe to the horse’s neck, and Techno realised he could easily slit Carl’s throat, and he stepped back.

“The horse is innocent, the horse is innocent-” He was scared now. He couldn’t lose Carl, he couldn’t. His breath was too fast, too shallow. “Leave the horse out of this Quackity.”

“Get away from them.”

He stumbled forward, a few steps, eyes on Quackity, his legs shaking. The voices were silent. They were never silent.

“Drop your shit. All of it.”

He immediately threw aside his sword, swinging his bag off his shoulder and tossing it into the snow. He saw Fundy dart forward, snatching it up, and glancing inside. 

“Holy shit, Q, he’s got… Holy shit, this is good…”

Techno didn’t look at him, eyes fixed on Quackity, feeling his heart sink as the man looked at him in dissatisfaction, shaking his head. “Armor too.”

Techno hissed out a breath, but froze when the smaller man tightened his grip on his axe, still pressed to Carl’s neck. Slowly, he removed his helmet, his hair tumbling over his shoulders as it came undone. Then the gauntlets, as he struggled a bit with the straps, he saw Tubbo step forward a bit before stopping. He used to help, Techno remembered, back when he first lost his finger. He wasn’t helping anymore. Finally, they were ripped off, and tossed away. Techno grabbed the straps of the chest plate, and with a grimace, tore them, tossing the metal to the ground. 

Quackity had paled when he first saw the show of brute strength, but now he laughed as he looked down at the man’s form. “You've gotten fat, Technoblade.”

Techno didn’t blink, staring at him wordlessly, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, the man’s laughter died, and he sighed, before sheathing the axe. “Come on guys. The boats are waiting.”

Techno felt Ranboo at his back, and his hands were tied behind his back. The boy was gentle, almost… pitying, and Techno snarled at him. He didn't want pity. 

Suddenly, he heard someone clear their throat, gently, casually. His head turned, his eyes widening at the sight of Ghostbur and his fucking sheep.

"Are you guys going back to L'Manburg?" The ghost beamed at them, his face only getting brighter when Fundy nodded slowly. "Can I tag along? I- I've been planning on going back, but I think I got a bit lost, honestly."

Tubbo smiled at him, nodding gently. "Of course! You want to take your little friend?" 

Ghostbur nodded enthusiastically and started trailing after them. Techno so desperately wanted to believe that he had a plan, but he knew that wasn't true. This wasn't Will, who schemed, who came up with plans, who got in trouble with Schlatt as a kid. This wasn't even Wilbur Soot, who led a revolution, abandoned his son, forced his brothers to fight, made his father watch as he destroyed his own life. This was Ghostbur, the sewer ghost, Connor's friend, the potion maker.

He wasn't Techno's brother.

They got in the boats, Techno being placed with Tubbo. Quackity and Carl got in a boat, and Fundy and Ranboo were in a boat. Ghostbur dragged a boat out of the bushes, and into the water, corralling his sheep in before hopping in himself. Faintly, Techno realized that was his boat, but he also decided it didn't matter. He wasn't going to need it.

Quackity laughed, holding up a compass. The compass Techno had given Phil. “I guess we won't need this!” And then it was gone, over the edge, sinking into the depths.

Techno stared after it, wondering what would happen if he jumped out with his hands tied. Would they bother fishing him out or would they let him drown. He almost tried it, but Tubbo nudged him. The boy looked at him with concern.

“Are you ok?”

"You're leading me to my death, Tubbo. Don't start worrying about me now."

Wilbur overheard and twisted in his seat. "Death? Techno, you have three lives left, don't worry! You'll be fine!" If he was at all worried about sitting in a boat with people planning his brother's death, he didn't show it.

Quackity laughed. "Wilbur, we're not just gonna kill 'im. We're gonna set his respawn in a little cell. When he comes back, he'll be alone. No food, no water, no sunlight. He'll die. Then, he'll come back. No food. No water. No sunlight. He'll die. Again. That's three lives down baby, and we only have to do shit for one. Eventually, we'll haul his fuckin’ cold little corpse out, hang it up on a flagpole and let it serve as a warning. You don't fuck with us." 

Techno felt his spine crawl. He'd known it'd be something like that, but he hadn't expected it to be so… graphic. Spawn traps were one thing. This? This was something else. Still, he gritted his teeth and hunched his shoulders, ignoring the way Tubbo stopped rowing for a beat, clearly trying to stoop to see his eyes. 

It took them a while to reach land, long enough for Techno to wonder if he really was going to die. It wasn’t until they were at the dock, L’Manburg looming before them that he realised there was really no hope for him. He felt Fundy place a hand on his back to push him up the dock, and his head snapped around. He couldn’t see the boy, he was standing on the right. 

The warrior sucked in a breath, trying not to break down. The voices were screaming at him again, a chorus of Run. You can still kill them. Find Phil. What are you doing. He felt bile climb his throat, and swallowed it down, muttering “shut up”, hoping his captors wouldn't hear. Ranboo cast a curious glance at him, but didn't say anything. 

Finally, crossing into town, Quackity, who still led on Carl’s back, twisted around, his face stretching into a cruel smile and he raised his arms, staring down at Techno with a strange intensity on his face. “Technoblade, this is the day… this is the night in which you’re finally brought to justice. So much fucking pain you’ve caused our country, and now it’s time to just fucking end it all. I’m sorry, Techno, but I’m just so excited.”

Techno didn't say anything, and the man grinned, slipping off the horse.

They led him to town square, then into a tiny jail cell, forcing him to set his respawn, before making him block it up for good. Fundy grinned at him when his hands shook as he put the final nail in his coffin, the final shovel of dirt on his grave.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a guillotine wasn’t it. Faintly, he heard one of the voices chuckle cooly, and say ‘Oh, man, isn’t that ironic.’ It sounded like Schlatt. He didn’t much savor the thought. 

They had him kneel, but they didn’t put his head in yet, looking up to the balcony of one of the houses. He turned too, and felt his blood freeze. Phil stood there, staring down at him, a look of horror on his face as he saw his son his shackles. He looked… fine, unharmed, but Techno couldn’t help the panic that gripped him.

“What did they do to you?” His voice was barely a whisper and he wasn’t even sure Phil could hear him, but the man shook his head. 

“I’m… I’m sorry Techno, I tried to fight them…” Phil raised an arm, and Techno saw the shackles on his wrists, heavy chains that trailed inside, glimmering with enchantments.

Techno let out an enraged howl, lunging up and slamming his shoulder into Ranboo’s chest plate, a hit that should’ve knocked the wind out of the sickly hybrid, but he didn’t flinch, instead watching as Techno collapsed with a scream, his entire body wracked in pain. Of course they had thorn enchantments. He tried to stand, but Fundy slammed his boot into his gut, forcing him back down.

“Techno, mate, it’ll-” Phil paused, and Techno knew why. It wasn’t going to be okay. It really wasn’t, and Phil had promised long ago to never lie to his sons. Finally, Phil swallowed, looking down at Techno, making eye contact. “Techno, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Techno felt a tear slip from his eye, and nodded. He looked up at Quackity, who was positively glowing. Tubbo stood behind him, eyes fixed on the ground. Techno had to wonder if he was remembering what he’d said, about how power corrupts. If he felt bad for killing the man who taught him how to plant flowers, and read books, and braid hair. He probably didn’t. Tubbo had changed.

They hauled him to the guillotine, strapping him down, and locked him in place. Quackity smiled at Tubbo, gesturing to the young president. “Tubbo, would you care to make a speech?”

Tubbo nodded. “Technoblade has robbed our country. Robbed it of everything that made it special. Of everything that defined what it was. He destroyed our homes, destroyed our lives, ruined the government-”

Whatever else he had to say was cut off by a snowball to the mouth, which knocked him back a few steps. Techno craned his neck, just in time to watch a thin figure drop down onto the platform. Punz, he thought, one of Dream’s goons. Punz grinned at the group, before pulling something out of his jacket pocket. 

A bomb.

He darted back as Quackity lunged at him, Fundy coming up behind him to grab him, but he twisted away, leading them further and further from the guillotine. Quackity was cursing now, not just in common, but in his original language too. Fundy might’ve been cussing, but it was hard to hear over the vice president. 

Suddenly, a quiet voice hailed Techno, and he glanced over. Ghostbur was crouched by his sheep, hugging it tightly. “Technoblade, I named him- I’ve named him friend.”

Technoblade felt a grin slip onto his face. “That’s fantastic. That’s fantastic, Ghostbur, I’m about to die, Ghostbur.”

“Fuck it, fuck this shit, I’m pulling the lever.” Quackity was sprinting over, his hand reaching for the lever. At that exact moment, all the voices joined together in one last unifying cry. 

The Totem.

Techno reached into the pocket of his pants, wrapping his hand around the totem, and the blade slammed down on his neck.

He floated in nothing, his heartbeat the only sound. Then, he heard a laugh, and turned. Three dark-haired men stood there, facing him. Two he recognized, Schlatt and Wilbur. The third was shorter, with tan skin and a smiley mask, like Dream’s. 

They reached for Techno, and suddenly a surge of emotion entered his chest, and the voices were back, joining him as he spoke. “Not today.”

And he was up, still kneeling by the guillotine, his head on the floor. In one solid motion, he scooped up his head, plopping it onto his shoulders, and stood. His hands were untied, he noticed. Punz still led three of them on a goose chase, while Quackity stood, staring at the commotion. He looked up Phil, who stared back, a hopeful smile on his face. 

Techno mouthed ‘I’ll come back’, and the man nodded, waving him off. Go, be safe my child. 

Techno smiled, before sprinting to the end of the platform, plummeting into the cold water below, he swam to the dock at the shore, hauling himself out just in time to hear Quackity scream out, “Where the fuck is he?!”

He laughed a bit, climbing the pier pillars, gripping the wood with his thighs and hands as he scaled. He reached the top, almost losing his grip when a hand appeared to grab his. A hand wrapped in bandage.

Dream hauled him up, handing him Carl’s reigns. The taller person led him to a tunnel, pushing him down the steps. “There’s shit for you in the chests. Keep your head down, move fast.” 

Techno stared at his old rival. They were thinner than they’d ever been before, their hair in a tangled mess. Their hand shook as they blocked up the tunnel, but when they turned to him again, their eyes burned with something he hadn’t seen since their duel. Dream had a plan.

“Go.”

Techno nodded, swinging himself up onto Carl’s back and galloping down the tunnel. It was narrow, but after a bit, they reached a room. A sign on the wall read “The Final Control Room.” He didn’t know what that meant, but it felt fitting. A chest sat in the corner with his name engraved on the lid. 

It had iron armor, and a satchel with potions and a single pickaxe. He snorted. Useless, for the most part. He suited up quickly, struggling with the straps in his haste, and stood, looking at the exit. It was narrow, and he’d need to lead Carl carefully, making sure he didn’t hit his head. He had a lead, which he slipped over the horse’s head, but he heard footsteps echoing down the tunnel from L’Manburg, and he froze.

He stepped out of the small room, finding Quackity standing there, a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. 

“What the hell this, Techno.” The man’s voice was shaky with exhaustion, his eyes were heavy and dull, but his facade of anger stayed on. “How the fuck did that not kill you.”

Techno felt himself laugh, leaning against the doorframe casually. “Did you really think, Quackity, that you could kill me that easily? You really think death can stop me?”

He stepped forward, relishing the fear that flashed in the man’s eyes. He was alone now, with a man who has killed thousands without remorse, who has torn down countries, who has been turned into a legend, a bogeyman. It was almost funny, he thought. The only people to see him vulnerable were a dead man, a missing child, and a prisoner. And a potato farmer in a far off kingdom, Techno thought, but shoved that thought aside immediately.

Quackity had stopped moving back, and they were now almost chest to chest. The smaller man was pressing the axe against his neck, were the blade had fallen, where the skin was mended with only a thin white line to show it’d ever even been cut.

Techno started talking again, his monotone voice filled with emotions, rage, grief, amusement. “Y’know, I tried convincing you guys that government wasn’t the answer, that government was actually the cause of all your problems. I tried to convince you guys by fighting alongside you as brothers, and you just cast me aside, you used me. I tried to use force, and you still formed a government, and when I went into hiding, when I retired, when I swore off violence, you hunted me down, you hurt my friends.” 

The vice-president’s face was no longer a battlefield of emotions. His hands no longer trembled, his eyes were sharper than they’d ever been. Something in them glimmered. Something was wrong with him, Techno thought, but then he started talking, and his voice was wrong. Too smooth, too calm. The voice of a businessman.

“You don’t understand, Techno. You don’t understand what we’re trying to build here. This is not a simple anarchy thing, okay? This is what you don’t understand.” He leaned in, his breath smelled like blood. “You really think I give a shit about the Withers? No, no. You are on the hit list, Techno. You’re on the fucking hit list. I’m building a country here. What we have out there is a country. What we need here is organization, power. I don’t care how long it fucking takes me or what I have to do to get you, Techno, I’m going to fucking kill you. I’m going to kill you, Technoblade.”

Techno sighed. “I just have one question, Quackity. Do you think you’re enough to kill me? Even unarmed, with iron armor?”

Quackity’s face contorted with rage, “Let’s find out, you son of a bitch.”

And they were at it. Quackity wasn’t very experienced, his method of fighting involved a lot of flailing, his sword and axe swinging through the air with reckless abandon. Techno was more methodical, pulling out his pickaxe to block, and dodge, and occasionally strike. Quackity was desperate, but it occurred to Techno that he still had two lives left. This wouldn't be a permadeath for the young man. If Techno died, however, he would awaken in the cell, and it would all be over. He couldn’t lose.

He didn’t. Quackity overbalanced, finally, and Techno spun him around, pressing him against a wall, his arms crossed uselessly over his chest, pinned there by Techno’s forearm. Techno yanked off the boy’s helmet and raised his pickaxe, and right before bringing it down, something changed in Quackity’s eyes.

Confusion, fear and shock flooded the kid’s eyes. That’s all he was, really. A kid. 19 wasn’t old enough to be on your last life. 

Then the pickaxe came down, and the sword and axe clattered to the floor. 

The body stayed for a moment, before vanishing in a puff of smoke. Techno sighed, picking up the armor, and the weapons, cleaning the blood off the tip off the pickaxe before tossing it aside. He resuited, this time without the desperation and fear to burden his movements, and grabbed Carl’s lead. 

They made it to the sewer, then out a small opening that led to an area away from town. Techno’s neck hurt, his shoulder was starting to hurt from the arrow, and his arm was still sore from punching the thorn armor. He leaned against Carl as they walked down to the shore, the horse not minding at all. 

There was a boat on the shore, although whether it was a fisherman’s boat, or Dream’s, he had no idea. He didn’t care. He just wanted to go home. 

It was cold now, without his cloak after the adrenaline wore off. At this point, he wasn’t thinking, letting the voices guide him as he rowed home. They seemed more gentle than normal, humming at him, reminding him he was close. Telling him to stay strong. Reminding him to tie up the boat and guide Carl onshore, instead of just staying in the boat.

He limped through the forest, letting the sun wash over him.

There was smoke coming from his chimney, and he sighed in relief. It looked so warm. He led Carl into the stable and started up the front steps, passing Tommy in the doorway, and immediately went to his potion chest, downing two regen potions, back to back and collapsing against the wall. 

Wait. Tommy?

He turned to the door, almost afraid to walk out, almost afraid to see nothing. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he checked and he was alone.

Finally, he walked to the oak door, opening it carefully. The cold wind tore through his thin clothes, but he bit his tongue and stepped down the stairs, looking around. 

There.

Tommy was crouched in the snow, digging a little hole, like a dog. Techno walked up to him, slowly, carefully, almost afraid he would disappear. The voices were quiet.

“‘Ow do?” Tommy’s voice was raw, scratchy. He didn’t sound 16.

Techno stared at him. He didn’t even look up at the older man, instead tossing a golden apple in the hole and burying it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, ay.” Tommy finally glanced up at his brother, and Techno realised how awful he looked. “You look ugly.”

Suddenly Techno wasn’t tired. Every emotion he’d ever felt rushed him at once, and he felt his hands clench into fists. He couldn’t say everything in his mind, so he only asked one question. “What were you doing in my house, Tommy.”

Tommy stood, waltzing past him. He was still taller than Techno, of course. “Well, you know… How’re you?” He asked casually, as if they were good friends who’d chatted just yesterday.

Techno whirled. “What the fuck are you doing in my house? Get out!”

Tommy stuck his tongue out like a child, jogging up the stairs. “You are a bitch, Technoblade.”

Techno snarled, following him up the stairs and into the house, slamming the door behind them. “Get out of my house!”

Tommy sat on the crafting table, smirking down at his older brother. “You can’t kill me.”

Techno laughed a bit, drily, pulling Quackity’s sword from his belt. “Wanna bet?”

Tommy’s eyes went wide, and he lunged for one of the chests, pulling out a flint and steel, slamming them together to make sparks that danced towards Technoblade. Techno screeched, jumping back. “Tommy, my house is made of wood!”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah! Yeah! It is!” Suddenly the smile dropped off his face and he stepped forward to place his hand on Techno’s shoulder. “Well, I say we call it ‘our house’.”

“N-No?! This is my house?!”

Tommy shrugged, shoving the flint and steel in his pocket and strolling to the ladder. “Yeah, but I live here now.”

Techno made a choking noise as the boy disappeared downstairs. He remembered when they were kids when Tommy used to cry at night, then refuse to admit it; when he broke his arm, and didn’t tell Phil, because he didn’t want to admit it hurt; when he tore Wilbur’s sweater, and hid under Techno’s bed for hours while waiting for the storm to blow over. He’d missed the little bastard.

So, he grabbed his cloak, and followed his brother into the basement, a little smile on his face.


	2. A Monster.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo knew what he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i just. i really like ranboo??

Ranboo knew what he was expecting. Living in New L’Manburg, he’d heard stories about the famed anarcho-terrorist, Technoblade. He’d heard of him from Tubbo, bitter curses spat from the lips of a little boy betrayed by his idol. He’d heard of him from Niki, his sister’s eyes burning with a rage that he’d never imagined on her. He’d heard of him from Quackity, shaky hands moving to old wounds, from a festival that had gone so horribly wrong. 

He’d seen the posters, too, drawings of a man with matted white hair, and a lean frame, and a fearsome snarl. 

He knew what he was expecting, but the tired man who opened the door for his own funeral procession wasn’t it. 

Quackity had called Technoblade fat, the first time they saw each other in months, but that wasn’t true. Technoblade was still muscular, but it was hidden under a layer of fat, of deceptive comfort, like snow over TNT. He wore simple cotton clothes, his hair nicely brushed back into a ponytail. He didn’t snarl, his face soft and weary, the mangled half of his face seeming almost pitiable. He didn’t seem like a monster.

Ranboo almost let his guard down. Next thing he knew, the man was hurling potions and chanting as he whirled into movement. Ranboo almost lost his first life in that fight. 

On the boat ride back to L’Manburg, Quackity and Fundy taunted the man, calling him a monster. Nothing more than an animal. He didn’t think Technoblade heard, but he did. He heard all of it, and his heart twinged. He was far less human than the others, he knew. No one had mentioned it, all of them keeping their whispers private, for the most part. He still got looks in the street when he limped down it, his one long leg and one short leg only causing more distress as he tried to get away from the stares. He hated people looking at him.

When Technoblade saw his father, he was upset. He slammed into Ranboo, his shoulder digging into his chest plate, but it didn’t hurt the boy at all, completely absorbing the impact and turning it on the warrior instead. Looking down at the mighty Technoblade as he laid on the floor sobbing made him want to scream, made him want to run away, run from this scene, this awful awful scene. 

He watched the execution with shaky legs. He didn’t see what happened next. All he knew is one moment, he was fighting that Punz guy, and then he was kicked over the edge of the dock, falling into the water.

It burned, blistering his skin and making him scream, even though all that came out was bubbles.

It took a while to crawl out, but when he did, he couldn’t do anything but lay on the wood planks, sobbing as he curled into a ball, feeling his skin bubble and burn. It hurt. Oh god it hurt.

Fundy came by after a while, sitting by him, his hands cool against the boy’s feverish skin, and gave him a potion. Ranboo choked a bit, but managed to swallow most of it. He lay in misery for a bit longer, before he managed to sit up, shaking violently. Fundy held him close, pressing his face to the side of the boy’s head, not a kiss, but close. Just as comforting.

It took a long time for the pain to subside enough to stand, but when it did, he followed Fundy as the man silently led him to the Butcher headquarters. 

Quackity had lost it. His eyes glimmered gold, his voice hissing through his broken front teeth, his hair matted in blood. So soon after a respawn, especially a respawn of such a violent death, he shouldn’t be up, let alone moving this much, but he was. Rambling about how Dream had betrayed them, given Technoblade an escape, brought him back somehow. 

Tubbo looked so tired, his eyes dim, his skin pale. Ranboo watched his friend nod dumbly to everything Quackity said, before leaving the meeting early. Fundy looked mad, glaring at the vice president and slinking out the second the meeting ended. 

Ranboo stood, approaching Quackity carefully, quietly. He didn’t look up at first, and when he did, he seemed to stare through the boy. 

“Yeah?”

Ranboo stammered, feeling a blush creep up his neck as the man raised an eyebrow. “Uh… I just- I just wanted to- uh- ask if you’re ok?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he flinched.

Quackity frowned a bit. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Ranboo paused. “You just… you just died. You’re at one life now. That’s… that’s gotta be scary.”

The man snorted a bit. “Oh, yeah. Guess I gotta be more careful, huh?” He winked at Ranboo, like a pal sharing a secret. The boy felt his spine crawl a bit, but he smiled weakly and nodded, backing away a bit. 

The smaller man noticed and waved him away. He turned and ran out, feeling his feet take him back towards the execution stand. 

The bag of Technoblade’s items still sat on the ground, and he carefully picked it up. He knew what was inside. Bottles of powerful potions, golden apples, ender pearls. Rare things he’d hardly seen outside of old books. He sighed, slinging it over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with this. He assumed Tubbo would want them, but he really really didn’t want to see the president. 

Ranboo wasn’t sure who was older out of the two of them, but it didn’t matter. Tubbo was 17. He wasn’t supposed to fight wars, or lead a nation. He knew the boy was lonely, he had to be. He knew he should visit, help his friend, talk to him, but something held him. The thought of the shell of a boy staring at him with those dead eyes, hoarse voice murmuring his name… No. No, he couldn’t go to Tubbo.

“Ranboo? Are you ok?” 

He whirled, looking around in a frenzy. He couldn’t see anyone. Was he losing it? Was he hearing voices like Technoblade? Was he going to become a monster? Or, even more of a monster than he already was? He felt his heart pound in his ears.

“Hey, hey, mate, it’s ok. It’s alright.” 

Finally, he looked up, and he figured it out. He wasn’t going insane. It was Phil. The middle aged man was staring down at him in concern, leaning on the balcony. 

Ranboo shuddered. “Uh, y-yeah. I’m. I’m fine.”

Phil nodded, a look of disbelief on his face. “Mhm. I saw what happened, with the water. That looked pretty painful… Techno’s probably got a healing pot somewhere in there. Should fix you right up.”

The boy blinked up at him before blurting out, “You know we just killed him, right? We literally just chopped his head off in front of you.”

He flinched a bit as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but Phil just hummed. “Yeah.” The man straightened up, stretching his arms over his head, chains clanking. “If he hadn’t had that totem, he’d be gone for good.”

Ranboo stared at him, expecting something more, but the blond just smiled gently at him. “Do you want something to eat? You look hungry.”

He felt his stomach growl, and he was reminded that he hadn’t eaten all day. Niki was on a date with Puffy that afternoon, and he didn’t have any food in his apartment. He paused, before nodding. Phil gestured for him to come in, and he did.

It wasn’t until he was standing in the man’s kitchen that he realised that he was barely ten feet away from the father of three war criminals, who technically qualified as an enemy of the state. He stiffened, watching him bustle around the kitchen. 

He didn’t seem like a threat. He was small, probably shorter than Techno, definitely shorter than Tommy. He barely came up above Ranboo’s elbow. His hair was long, almost mid back, and pulled in a braid woven with flowers. He was wearing his hat, as always, a widbrimed thing with dangling strings of pearls, glass and quartz shards that sent light dancing across the wall. He hummed as he worked, a quiet tune that was vaguely familiar to Ranboo. And he talked. 

“Oh, do you mind mushrooms? I’m making a mushroom stew, it was Wil’s favorite recipe growing up, but Tommy hated it. Although, he might’ve just said he disliked it to be ornery. He had a habit of coincidentally hating everything his brothers liked.” He laughed, softly, kindly, casting a gentle grin at the half-boy in his kitchen. 

“Uh. N-no, I don’t mind…” Ranboo hated his stammer, and flinched visibly, but the other man politely didn’t mention it. “Are… are you going to kill me?”

Phil frowned at him, confusion on his face. “No. Why would I do that?” Ranboo gestured outside, at the guillotine. Phil’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh. No, I don’t blame you. You seem like a very nice boy.”

The boy gaped at him. “But… I just tried to kill your son?”

He grinned wryly. “Oh, trust me, I’m aware. But to be fair, haven’t we all?”

Ranboo’s eyes couldn’t have gotten any wider. This man just cracked a joke about killing his son. He hadn’t been there at the final battle, but he’d assumed it’d been a pretty heart breaking scene. He couldn’t imagine having to kill someone he loved. He couldn’t imagine killing anyone.

“What was it like?” His voice shook a bit, his eyes refusing to meet Phil’s. 

The man hummed again, ladling the stew into bowls. “Scary, I suppose. It was fast, and confusing. I’m not sure I even realised what was happening until it was over.” He set the bowls down on the table and gestured for Ranboo to join him. “It’s different from killing mobs. Warmer. More blood.” He looked up at the boy as he continued. “Trust, me, my son. It’s not an experience I would ever like to repeat.”

Ranboo shifted uncomfortably, finally walking over to the table and sitting down. The chairs were too small, and his knees were almost pulled up to his chest, but he didn’t complain. They ate in silence. The stew was good, and it warmed Ranboo to the core.

“You’re a nervous one, aren’t you?” Phil’s voice was quiet, but it made Ranboo jump, the man chuckling a bit at the reaction.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up, and he looked away, trying to shrink in on himself a bit. 

Phil shook his head. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. You actually remind me of Techno, a bit.”

Ranboo thought back to flashing netherite, and triumphant laughter, and blood. “R-really?” He didn’t much savor the comparison.

The man saw his poorly repressed shudder and sighed. “He’s a good kid. A good man. It might not seem like it, but…” He looked down into his soup sadly. “He never betrayed anyone, you know. He was clear on his intentions from the start. He wanted anarchy. They didn’t listen. No one ever listened. They didn’t even let him leave the city before making a government.” He looked up. “He really has changed, Ranboo. He just wanted his farm. He just wanted peace.”

Ranboo sighed, looking down at the nearly empty bowl cradled in his clawed hands. “I know the feeling.”

He left with a light heart and a full belly. Phil hugged him before he left, arms wrapping around his shoulders, bringing him down until he was bending over, so the older man could ruffle his thin hair, and smile sadly at him. 

“Don’t become what they think you are.”

Ranboo didn’t sleep that night, staring at the ceiling of his little shack. The next morning, he went out to talk to Niki, not missing how people stared at him, at his withered skin, his glowing eyes. Even Niki flinched when she saw him, remembering a time before he got sick, when he looked like a normal boy, a time he couldn’t remember. 

It was early afternoon by the time he made up his mind, fixing his tattered red scarf around his neck and pulling a heavy wool coat to ward against the late autumn chills. He grabbed the bag before he left, feeling the leather strap dig into his shoulder.

And he set out to the tundra.

It was a long walk, especially for a sickly boy such as him. He had to stop and down an end potion to keep himself from spewing what little he had in his stomach, but he was determined. He was going to make it. He had to.

It was dark when he finally stumbled apon the familiar house, smoke rising invitingly from the chimney. He’d forgotten to eat again, and the smell of fresh bread made him want to cry with relief. He stood in the dark yard for a bit, watching a huge shadow move inside. He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to decide what to say. 

He wasn’t given long to decide, though, before a gurgling moan shook him out of his mind, just in time to fall back in a failed attempt to dodge the zombie that lunged at him. He screamed, trying to pull his sword out of his scabbard, but it was trapped under him. His heart dropped as he curled into a ball, trying to protect his head. The snow burned his skin, but he figured it wouldn't matter for long.

Suddenly, a ‘shrnk’ sliced through the air, and the zombie stopped before falling sideways. Technoblade stood over him, sword in hand. Calmly, coldly, he stared down at the boy, leveling his sword at his neck. Ranboo choked in terror, closing his eyes.

"Ranbow?" 

His head snapped up, staring at the boy standing in the doorway of the house. "Tommy?"

The boys stared at each other for a moment, Technoblade looking between them, sword not dipping or moving at all.

Tommy looked different than the last time Ranboo had seen him, just a few weeks ago. Hair was longer, but his skin had more color, his eyes back to the bright blue they'd been before his banishment. His face was more expressive too, cycling from confusion to happiness and then settling on rage.

He stormed down the steps, Ranboo stumbling to his feet, trying to get away from him, but the small boy kept pace, fingers gripping his coat lapels and pulling him down, till their faces were nearly touching.

"Where the hell were you?!" Tommy spat, his breath just as rancid and bitter as his voice. "My fucking party. Everyone was invited, and no one came. Not even you, my so called friend. So you better have a good explanation."

Ranboo frowned, trying to remember. "P-Party? I don't…" His eyes widened as Tommy started to sneer, his words coming out in a rush. "No no no, I-I never got an invitation, I would remember if I didn't-"

Tommy's eyes widened, but narrowed again almost immediately. "Are you sure? Maybe it just wasn't important enough to you." His voice burned worse than all the water in the world and Ranboo forced himself to meet his friend's eyes.

"Tommy. You are the most important thing in the world to me. I don't know what happened to the invitations, but I swear to you, I never got one."

Tommy searched his face for any sign of dishonesty, and finding none, he released the taller boy. "Fuck…"

"Yeah."

They stood there a bit longer before Tommy sighed, turning back to the house. "Well, come on. You're just in time for dinner."

If there was one trait the family seemed to share, it was their cooking. Apparently, Technoblade had made jacket potatoes and pork chops, seasoned with herbs from his little garden.

Watching them eat made Ranboo realize just how human they were. Not human like the species, human like the concept.

Technoblade ate quietly, slowly, his eyes on his food, but he hummed sometimes, when Tommy addressed him, muttering under his breath to himself.

Tommy was loud, talking the entire time, telling Ranboo about everything. He would forget about his food every few minutes, until Technoblade would quietly tap his plate, and then he'd shovel his mouth full, and continue talking. 

Ranboo was confused. He'd expected to be killed by Technoblade, not given a chance to apologise, and instead, here he was, eating his food, listening to his brother talk, seemingly already forgiven.

Dinner ended with Technoblade telling Tommy to go outside to double check on the turtles, leaving him alone with the other teen. Ranboo squirmed a bit, eyes on the floor. 

“You helped Quackity.” The man’s deep voice cut through the air cooly, sharp as his sword.

Ranboo made a noise similar to that of a choking bird, and his face flushed a bit. “U-uh. Yeah… Um. Sorry… I didn’t mean… I mean, I did mean... I…” He felt his heart pound in his chest. The feeling of Technoblade’s eyes boring into his soul didn’t help much. He was trembling so hard he could hear his teeth chattering. 

“Hmm… You remind me of him. Before he was vice pres. He was kinda a wimp.” Technoblade’s word coaxed a nervous chuckle out of the boy.

“Y’know, y-your dad, he said I reminded him of you…” He glanced up at the sharp gasp that came from the warrior.

He was staring at him, eye wide, his mouth open a bit. “You… you talked to Phil?” His expression grew stormy and he stood up so fast his chair fell over backward. “I swear to Prime, if you hurt him, I will fucking end you.”

Ranboo threw up his hand, white flags against the rage of the Blood God. “N-no! He… he gave me stew, and a healing potion. It’s ok, he’s alright!”

Technoblade froze, looking down at him calculatingly. Finally, he hissed out a breath, turning away. “Why are you here, again? I’m assuming you aren’t here to avenge Quackity or anything like that.”

“Mmm, no, I was… Oh!” Ranboo stood, causing Technoblade to step back and grab for a sword, but the boy only went to the pile of stuff he’d left by the door, pulling out the bag. “I wanted to return your stuff!”

Technoblade let out a disgruntled noise that reminded the boy of the people-like creatures that had raised him as the man stared at it, his eyes drifting between the boy and his gift, before he shook his head. “You open it. I want to make sure it’s not trapped.”

Ranboo blinked at him, before nodding. He undid the buckles, opening the bag, and then, just to prove it’s safety, he stuck his hand in it and moved it around.

Technoblade watched carefully, before nodding and snatching his bag back, sitting down to put it on his lap. He sorted through it as he talked, taking count of everything. “Why are you returning this to me? I don’t know if you noticed, we’re kind of at odds here.”

Ranboo scratched his neck awkwardly. “Uh… yeah… but… I don’t know, you seem… Lonely.” Catching the look the man gave him, he put up his hands, desperately backtracking. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just… People don’t really see you a people. A person. I… you’re either shown as like, a weapon, or a monster, and, I guess I know how that feels, so I figured I just wanted to come here and say, uh, that.” 

Technoblade’s motions had slowed during the ramble, until he just… sat there, unmoving. Finally, he raised his head, eye boring into Ranboo, who uncomfortably looked away, before deciding that was rude, and looking back, before getting uncomfortable again. The kitchen was unbearably silent.

“No.”

Ranboo jumped, looking back at the man. “No? No… what?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Not you, the-” He gestured at his head and Ranboo knew what he was saying. The voices. They seemed to have Technoblade’s full attention, his eyes narrowing a bit as he stared off into space, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Yeah yeah, I know. Ok, but that doesn’t mean... No, I already have to... Ha, fuck you. No, no, stop that. Stop saying that. Fuck. Shut up, I swear…”

Ranboo watched, increasingly more and more uncomfortable as the one sided conversation continued, until Technoblade paused in his responses to stare at him, before sighing. “Alright, fine. If it’ll make you shut up.”

And then he stood, and Ranboo stepped back. He was going to kill him. The voices were calling for blood, and he was going to oblige. Fuck, this was bad. 

“Do you want to stay here?”

Ranboo froze, staring at him. “What?”

Technoblade sighed. “The voices are chanting ‘Technosave’, which means that they like you. They seem to think you’re trustworthy. ‘Sides, I already have one gremlin kid living here and you said you get treated like shit back in L’Manburg, so hey, what can it hurt?”

Ranboo felt his face split into a grin, which immediately faded. “Uh… no, I gotta… I gotta get back to Niki…”

“Ok, then just the night. It’s dark out already and I don’t- I mean, Tommy probably wouldn’t want you out there on your own.”

“Uh…” Ranboo looked out the window at the dark night. He shivered at the thought of going out there and sighed. “Ok.”

Tommy stomped in just then, muttering something about scutes and chickens, scowling as he yanked off his dusty old red beanie. He looked over at his brother and friend, raising an eyebrow at them. “So? What the fuck were you guys talking about?”

Techno snorted, opening a nearby chest to pull out a pile of blankets, which he shoved into the youngest’s arms. “Go set up the cot in your room. Ranboo’ll be in there tonight.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realised that Techno knew his name. He felt something in his heart warm as Tommy’s face lit up. Techno smiled at him, just a little, a faint grin more than anything, and he smiled back full force, letting himself be dragged down to Tommy’s little basement alcove. 

They realised the cot was too small for him, only around six feet long, leaving a good two feet of him out in the cold. Finally, Tommy huffed, putting up the cot and shoving his bed aside to instead throw all of his pillows and blankets on the floor, as well as all the other soft stuff in the house. Together, the two of them made a decent nest. Eventually, Tommy ran upstair for more, and came back with Techno, and he started helping them and never really left.

The night ended with Tommy huddled against him, arms looped around his middle, snoring into his shoulder. Techno was on his other side, dressed in a baggy sweater that looked suspiciously like something Phil would wear, and a pair of soft llama wool pajama pants, his back to the boys, his breath coming out in gentle wheezes. 

For a bunch of wanted terrorists, the Watson family wasn’t that bad, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter almost didn't get posted, but then i decided, hey fuck it, so here you guy go.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment and i'll love you forever


End file.
